


Around The Block

by AuroraKant



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: (at least not yet), (barely), (it is just bruises), Brotherly Bonding, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen, Hurt Dick Grayson, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jason Just Wants To Feel Safe, Jason Todd is Not Robin, Misunderstandings, Past Child Abuse, Protective Jason Todd, Rated T for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27559342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/pseuds/AuroraKant
Summary: Dick Grayson was the kid Bruce Wayne had taken in before Jason even knew what living on the streets really meant. He was the reason why Jason hadn’t just bolted when Batman dumped him on Bruce Wayne’s front porch.Looking at the swollen shut eye, the dried blood still clinging to his nose, the guarded look in his eyes… Jason should have run when he had the chance. He should have run the moment Batman let go of his arm, and he shouldn’t have stopped until he reached Blüdhaven.Or: Jason Todd thinks Dick Grayson gets abused - and it is his job to save Bruce Wayne's first ward.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Comments: 52
Kudos: 560





	Around The Block

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neptance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neptance/gifts).



> Hello!  
> And welcome to this fic! I hope you enjoy it! You especially Shell! <3  
> Many thanks to Lee and Fori for betaing this for me! This wouldn't have been possible without you! 
> 
> And just to clarify: Bruce is not abusive in this story, Jason - due to past trauma - just thinks he is. 
> 
> Comments, Kudos and Bookmarks make me extremely happy! Thank you so much guys! <3<3<3

Jason had only been at Wayne Manor for a week and he could already tell the place was crazy. Not only had it been the freaking Batman who dumped Jason on the doorsteps of Gotham’s richest citizen, the flying rodent had also vouched for Bruce Wayne.

And now Jason lived in a fucking  _ mansion. _

These last seven days he had spent wandering the hallways and sneaking food from the kitchen had been great. Or at least they hadn’t been bad. Jason had almost forgotten how comfortable a soft bed could be, and his stomach was getting used to the three course meals Mr. Pennyworth prepared each evening. It was great.

He was trying to be cautious, however. Otherwise he would only suffer when Mr. Wayne decided to throw him back out onto the street. If he grew too comfortable with the ready supply of food, he would only miss it even more once it was sparse again. Jason had the vague feeling that being hungry would be so much worse, when the memory of a full stomach was still fresh.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t eat as much as he wanted to, or the reason for the numerous stashes of non-perishable food Jason had already hidden all over the Manor.

It was super easy to just hide things in these old hallways and lonely rooms. How Mr. Pennyworth was able to clean all that alone, Jason couldn’t comprehend… but maybe the old man ordered outside help when his boss wasn’t looking. From the looks of it, Mr. Pennyworth got paid enough to secretly employ cleaning personnel of his own.

Looking at the staircases that invited dust, and the hard to reach shelves in the library, Jason couldn’t really fault him.

And with each day Jason could feel himself grow more at ease.

Yeah, he was still wary of Mr. Wayne’s hulking frame, and he was sure Mr. Pennyworth must have some sort of secret, but… Jason didn’t feel the need for constant vigilance while reading in the upstairs library like he had during the first few days.

It was easier to mumble a “thank you” when Mr. Wayne offered him juice, and it felt less threatening to stand behind Mr. Pennyworth when he prepared his culinary masterpieces in the kitchen.

Maybe… maybe this could become something like a home over time.

Maybe Jason had finally found a place where he could stay.

At least, that’s what Jason had thought before he came back from a trip into the city with Mr. Pennyworth, only to hear yelling echoing from down the hall. It was the kind of screaming Jason knew. His neighbors Sally and Mark had fought like that, before the cops were eventually called and silence then reigned as neither wanted to admit to hurting the other. Jason had seen their bruises later on. He had had his own bruises as well, whenever his dad got mad, or his mom was too tired…

But…  _ no _ .

There was probably a perfectly logical explanation for this, and Jason was just working himself up for no reason at all. When Jason glanced towards Mr. Pennyworth, the old man had a worried look on his face, and it did nothing to calm Jason’s racing heart:

“What is going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, young sir.”

Jason was just about to answer, that it most certainly felt like something to worry about, when the echoing bang of a door being thrown shut filled the air. He couldn’t help himself – Jason flinched. Slamming doors had never represented anything good in Jason’s life, and he had the vague feeling that that wouldn’t suddenly change.

Mr. Pennyworth looked conflicted at the prospect of Jason being upset, but before the old man could touch his shoulder to offer something inane like comfort, Jason dashed through the foyer, towards his room.

It was probably just a business partner that had been angry at Mr. Wayne, Jason was sure. Or a cleaning staff member being caught by the intimidating billionaire. Yeah, those were the most likely options.

Now Jason just needed his heart to catch up with his brain, and his pulse to slow down.

Everything was okay.

_ Everything would be okay _ .

So, what if Jason didn’t leave his room for the rest of the afternoon?

So, what if he strained his ear to hear every hint of conflict hidden in those old walls?

So, what if unease was bubbling in his stomach, and the thought of his emergency escape bag was so much more prominent on his mind?

It didn’t have to mean anything. So, instead of thinking about any of these things, Jason tried to focus on his old copy of Moby Dick. He had been too young to really understand the book, back when his mom had bought it for him, but now it always offered comfort. It had been a blanket of escapism in the dark alleys and cold nights of Gotham, and it was his companion even now, as Jason feared that this fantasy of living happily at Wayne Manor was slipping through his fingers.

Some part of him had always known it would come to this.

Some part of him knew that Bruce Wayne and his fantastical estate was too good to be true.

Night fell, and the resolve in Jason strengthened. He couldn’t stay. It didn’t even really matter anymore, why Bruce had yelled, or why that door had been thrown shut, Jason just… he had to get out. Back when he had been younger, when his dad had not yet been in prison, Jason had sworn to himself, that he would never again let another adult hurt him like that.

It was enough that his dad had hit him, that the older alley kids liked to kick the smaller ones, or that there were men out there that fully exploited the children Gotham produced… Jason would never go back to an adult that could hurt him like his dad had hurt him once upon a time.

Mr. Wayne had long ago retired to bed by the time Jason had finished packing his bag. Mr. Pennyworth was probably sleeping as well – after Jason didn’t answer even the third time the butler asked him to come and eat some food.

The hallway in front of his room was dark and empty and… yeah, okay, Jason was old enough to admit that it was scary as hell. A floorboard creaked when Jason stepped on it. Goosebumps ran down his spine. Okay, yes… this was spooky. Very, very spooky.

But Jason only had to reach the grand staircase and then he could make a run for the front door… it wasn’t that far, if you looked at it objectively. Another step – and this time nothing creaked. A relieved sigh escaped Jason, and the steps that followed came a lot easier.

That was, until he noticed the orange light escaping from under the door of one of the forbidden rooms. They weren’t really called that, but Jason had dubbed them that after Mr. Wayne explained to him that these were the private chambers of other members of the family. There were four “forbidden rooms”: The one Jason was standing in front of now, barely fifteen feet away from his own room, the master bedroom Bruce slept in down the hall, Alfred’s chambers on the other side of the Manor, and a private study, Jason had only sneaked in once.

Jason had never dared open the door to this particular room.

He didn’t this time either.

Instead, the door got opened for him, by a teenager a few years older than him. A teenager with a giant bruise covering half his face.

Jason knew of Dick Grayson.

Of course, he did.

The young man was the kid Bruce Wayne had taken in before Jason even knew what living on the streets really meant. He was the reason why Jason hadn’t just bolted when Batman dumped him on Bruce Wayne’s front porch.

Looking at the swollen shut eye, the dried blood still clinging to his nose, the guarded look in his eyes… Jason should have run when he had the chance. He should have run the moment Batman let go of his arm, and he shouldn’t have stopped until he reached Blüdhaven.

Because… because how was Jason supposed to leave now? Grayson had seen him – was still looking at him – and Jason felt shitty about… about running away when someone else was in pain. His mom had always said that Jason’s big heart would get him in trouble someday and looking at these pained blue eyes in front of him… Jason could almost understand what she had meant.

Dick Grayson needed help. And Jason was probably weak enough to offer it.

(not that he had all that much to offer – he owned exactly the backpack he carried with him and the stolen food in his pockets)

Before he could make up his mind, however, Grayson spoke. His voice was surprisingly cheery for a guy who just got beaten up by his guardian, but then again, Jason knew that kids coped in the weirdest ways with the stuff they were forced to survive:

“Hey, you must be… Jason, right? Bruce told me about you. Sorry about only checking up on you now… things got in the way.”

Yeah, Jason could clearly see what kind of things. If his dad beat him- wait… no, if his dad were still around to beat him up, Jason would do his best to stay far away from home as well. And by the looks of it, Grayson seemed to know that his explanation was more than just a little flimsy.

Pah, the poor guy almost looked apologetic.

“No stress… I was just…”

What was Jason doing?

Was he still planning on running away? Or was that a fantasy of the past? Would he…

In that moment Grayson shifted and Jason could see the wince the older teenager tried to hide as well as the smudged bruises on his hip, when his sweatshirt rode up.

Okay, no. Jason… maybe he could have looked away, maybe he could have just saved his own butt, but… if Mr. Wayne really hurt Grayson like that… nobody deserved to live like that, not even a rich kid like Grayson.

Yes, Jason would have to get him out.

He would do it. He would free Dick Grayson from the evil clutches of Mr. Wayne, just as Ron Weasley freed his friend Harry from the Dursleys. Jason would break them both free, would save their behinds and then… okay, maybe Jason hadn’t really figured out what would happen next yet, but Grayson had to be at least seventeen…

Jason could hotwire a car, and Grayson could get them money after that. Jason was sure the older teenager had an ace up his sleeve.

It took Jason a moment too long to realize that he had simply stopped talking, too lost in his own rescue fantasy. It was Grayson’s polite cough that brought him back, and Jason couldn’t help himself: He flushed a bright red, before he managed to get himself back under control.

Grayson seemed to think it was funny, his eyebrow rising – and stopping when the motion pulled on the various discolorations on his face.

Jason hated that he could relate to the feeling of carrying the bruises of unforgiving fists with you even when you tried to gain your happiness back--- he had carried the fists of his father with him for years, together with the neighbors’ yells and the threats of strangers.

It hurt to see that others suffered as well.

Jason had always sucked at looking away:

“I am going to save you.”

“What?”

“I am going to save you. Wayne is obviously an asshole and I am sorry that I believed for even a second that he would be anything else. I… I am really, really sorry if you only came back here because of me. I didn’t…”

_ No _ .

His words weren’t working right. Judging by the confused look on Grayson’s face, the older boy didn’t really understand what Jason was saying – well, Jason didn’t really understand either. He just wanted to save the boy… he just…

“Nobody deserves to get beat! And if… if Bruce Fucking Wayne hurts his first kid like that, what is going to stop him from doing the same to me? I won’t let that happen. We are running away!”

That felt better. More concrete. More bravado! It felt almost…  _ literary _ . Jason was proud of himself.

That didn’t stop Grayson from being confused, however.

“What do you mean…? Bruce doesn’t- He doesn’t hurt me.”

“And how do you explain your face then? Your hip? You are obviously in pain!”

“My…?”

It was a knee-jerk reaction when Grayson reached towards his face, flinching back when his fingers brushed over the worst of the bruises making his eye puffy. The idiot had apparently actually forgotten how beat up he was.

Just another sign of what kind of violence reigned in Wayne Manor on the daily.

“ _ Oh _ …”

For a moment Grayson only looked at Jason, something complicated in his gaze, and then the young man spoke again, and Jason knew what would come even before the words left Grayson’s lips:

“It… that isn’t Bruce’s fault. I…”

“That’s what they all say. They all defend their abuser.”

“They…?”

“The alley kids, and the rich kids, and the women, who never managed to get away. The police get called and they lie… they say everything is fine… I’ve seen it enough times by now. Never would have thought that… that Wayne did the same to his kid.”

“Jason, I don’t know you, but… I swear, it wasn’t Bruce.”

There was something desperate in Grayson’s eyes – Jason understood that as well. Maybe he would be like this too, if his dad hadn’t gotten caught and ended up in jail. Maybe Jason would have learned how to cower and be constantly afraid as well.

(and who was he kidding? He was afraid of everything… just in a different way to Grayson)

Dick Grayson only had Bruce Wayne. The older man had financial control over his ward… and legal control as well, especially with how rich the Waynes were. It was no wonder Grayson defended the man; it was no wonder nobody had ever stopped Wayne from enacting his abuse.

Well, Jason was ready to be the first.

“If it wasn’t Wayne… who hurt you like this?”

“Nobody…”

It was irrational to get angry, and yet Jason could feel the annoyance bubble in his stomach. He was trying to help! And Dick Grayson tried to play dumb… that wouldn’t do. Jason would have to… he would have to push harder, get better results – and he had to hurry along, before Wayne heard the commotion and it was checkmate for the both of them.

“Just… who hurt you? You can tell me. Especially if it wasn’t Wayne.”

“It was… look, Jason, we just met for the first time, and I am sure you are a great kid” – there was something bitter hidden in Grayson’s voice that Jason stored away for later – “but… I stumbled, fell down the stairs… let it go, kid.”

“I hope you know that you just used the lamest abuse victim excuse I have ever heard off.”

Somehow using the word abuse must have struck Grayson, because the older teen stumbled back as Jason spat the words in his face. Only this time Jason was ready. He didn’t want to hurt Grayson – he even doubted if he would be able to – but they needed to move.

With each minute Jason stood in the middle of the hallway, completely unprotected, his anxiety grew.

What if Wayne suddenly showed up?

What if it was Mr. Pennyworth they woke up? Was the butler aware of the crimes of his master? Did he actively help?

Jason really, really didn’t want to find out the answer to any of these questions, so he grabbed Grayson’s arm and pulled. And… well, Grayson was surprised enough that he followed, at least for a few steps.

They had barely reached the grand staircase when Grayson did what Jason had almost expected him to do twenty feet ago: He stopped. His voice was silent but furious when he spoke:

“What do you think you are doing? Stop it! This has nothing to do with you! There is no story here.. B- I… I simply stumbled! Okay!”

Jason was clever – of course, he noticed the moment when Grayson stumbled over his words. The desperation had never left Grayson’s face, but in the low light of the moon shining in through the windows Jason could also see something else in Grayson’s expressions: fear and anger and exasperation.

The teen wouldn’t come with Jason out of his own free will. At least not as long as Jason played fair. Well, Jason was more than just capable of playing dirty:

“You know… my mom always told the police she got roughed up on the way home from work. We lived in Crime Alley so the cops left you alone if you didn’t have an interesting crime to report. So, yeah… my mom said she got robbed. The neighbors claimed it was mutual… and I got taught to say that the kids on the playground were a bit harsh. I don’t know you… I ain’t gonna run around claiming to know you… but I won’t let you stay here and lie.”

He hated that it was impossible for him to reliably read whatever was happening on Grayson’s face, but suddenly something changed, the entire posture of the teen in front of him turning into… something else. It was hard to describe, and not for the first time in his life Jason wished his reading list had been more extensive… maybe then he would have the words to describe the miniscule and yet monumental differences between the Grayson of now and the one that had still existed only a minute ago.

The most glaring difference was rather obviously the  _ resolve. _ Grayson looked at him, and there was something hard in his eyes, making Jason’s heart beat faster. Grayson looked almost dangerous, even if he was still wearing only a hoodie and pajama pants… even if his face was still more black and blue than actual face:

“Okay. Let’s go.”

This time it was Grayson that grabbed him, and Jason let it happen. The older boy pulled him along, down the staircase, through the door and towards the garage. Jason watched as if he were in a daze, as Grayson hotwired a car – and why could pretty boy Grayson even do that? – and pushed him inside.

Before he knew it, they were on the road, and Jason was left wondering what the fuck had just happened.

He voiced just that:

“What the fuck just happened?”

“Language”

“No.”

Grayson turned towards him, and when he saw Jason’s resolve, he smiled. It would be a nice smile, if Jason wasn’t still convinced that something weird was going on. It took a couple of minutes before Grayson spoke again, and this time his voice sounded a lot more like the boy that had accidentally opened Jason the door:

“I… you said you wanted to go. So… we went. I… I know you are not going to believe me when I tell you that it wasn’t Bruce that hurt me, but… it wasn’t him. I promise.”

“I heard you fight.”

And, yeah, looking back at it, Jason was pretty sure it had been the two of them he heard screaming bloody murder earlier that day.

“I… I am not saying Bruce and I are getting along… well at the moment. But he has never hit me. I promise.”

“Then why run away? Why steal a car with me?”

“Because I…” – for a moment Grayson fell silent – “Because I can’t leave you in an environment you feel unsafe in. I will not force you to stay with Bruce while you think he is actively dangerous to you. But I also won’t let you run away.”

“So, what is this? A pity drive? You sending me back into the fucking system?”

Now, Jason was angry. He had done his best to save Dick Grayson, and all the older boy had done, was take him away, defend his own abuser, and lure Jason into a trap… you would think two and a half years on the streets would have prepared Jason better for situations like this.

But nada… he was just as easily fooled as always. His mom had been right… his heart would one day be his end.

Jason watched the road for a chance to escape, but before he could jump out of the moving car, jaw squared, shoulders tense, Grayson spoke again:

“No! Never! I am… I am driving us to my apartment. I live in Blüdhaven, ever since I moved away from Gotham… Bruce and I… we had a big fight about many unimportant things almost a year ago… and when I heard that he had taken in another kid… I wanted to meet you. I am so sorry you had to… hear me and Bruce go at each other…”

“So, what? Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No… yes? I don’t know--- I just want to make sure you have a safe place to sleep tonight. And… and tomorrow we will figure something out.”

“Is it supposed to be this easy? A few promises and suddenly it is no longer true that someone obviously hurt you and you don’t even care?”

“I…”

That seemed to have struck a nerve, judging by the shocked look on Grayson’s face.

Jason watched Grayson as the young man swallowed, and it was almost eerie how easy it was to read his face just now. Previously there had been a mask in place – a good one, since Jason had been unable to see right through it – but now that last bit of protection had fallen away. The words ‘ _ it happens so often I learned not to care _ ’ were written on Grayson’s face, covering his bruises and eyes and his nose. Jason saw the ‘ _ it’s okay _ ’, the ‘ _ I am fine _ ’, the ‘ _ you don’t have to worry about me, I can take it _ ’ so starkly… his own soul arched.

Had he projected his thoughts like that as well once upon a time? Had his dad seen his pleas for safety every time he hit Jason, even after Jason learned not to cry?

Gotham was a dumpster fire, and it were the kids this city produced that were burning.

“That’s what Bruce and I fought about. I came… I already had these bruises when I came to visit him. He saw them and told me that it was too dangerous for me to live in Blüdhaven on my own. I saw it as an intrusion on my privacy – we fought. He… he didn’t hit me, Jason. He really, really didn’t hurt me.”

Jason wanted to believe Grayson and maybe… yeah, maybe these bruises were from someone else. But that didn’t stop everything else from being true as well: the ominous fights between Grayson and Wayne, the horrible acceptance of pain living in Grayson’s eyes… the way secrets seemed to reign over Wayne Manor.

“Maybe he didn’t hurt you this time… but that doesn’t make it okay! You don’t… you don’t deserve to be hurt like this! And you don’t… whatever Wayne told you, you don’t deserve to be hit! And belittled! And yelled at!”

It was very important that Grayson understood that – it had taken Jason far too long to fully comprehend that his dad’s words weren’t true. And sometimes he wasn’t even sure if he had truly left them behind… But Grayson? Who had lived nine years under Bruce Wayne’s roof?

It would take a while until the teenager was free from whatever poison Bruce Wayne had spewed that resulted in Grayson accepting pain as a part of everyday life, just as it would take a while for Jason to accept food as something he deserved.

They all had their battles to fight.

Jason… he didn’t know Grayson. He had heard off him, of course, but it was surprising to see how much he cared just after meeting the boy once. Wayne never really talked about his other ward, but Jason had seen the pictures.

Grayson had looked happy on them – Jason remembered being envious of the bond Grayson and Wayne seemed to share. Now, looking at the bruise and the slumped shoulders, Jason felt almost bad about it. There were many things he didn’t know, and it was making him uncomfortable.

Grayson’s smile as he answered, was brittle:

“That is very sweet, Jason. I… let me drive us to my apartment. We both need sleep and maybe we can figure this whole mess out once we had eight hours of shut eye…”

Jason was well aware of the fact that both Grayson and he had very different ideas of what a resolved situation would look like… but there were more important things to take care of.

“Do you swear that the person that hurt you won’t be able to reach us once we are at your apartment? Even if it is Wayne? Even if it is your partner or some fucked up asshole from down the street?”

Silence stretched through the car, as they passed the first few buildings of Blüdhaven’s suburbs. How a city so ugly and broken could have suburbs, Jason wasn’t sure. But the colorful houses of suburbia were at least a small distraction in this stifling silence.

Finally, Grayson spoke again:

“Sure. I will make sure that nobody will be able to reach us. That nobody can hurt us.”

“Thank you.”

“Sure thing, kid.”

Jason stayed with Dick for two weeks.

It was weird, but in a completely different way to the Manor. The Manor had been creepy and big and kind of amazing, since Jason had an entire library just for himself. Dick’s apartment was messy, and small, and Jason did get enough food, but it certainly wasn’t Mr. Pennyworth’s cooking.

Dick was in and out of the house at the weirdest times of the day, and at this point Jason played with the idea that Dick was maybe simply a hooker, and that that’s how he had gotten the bruises. It didn’t line up with the rest of the clues he had found, but at least it would explain the dark circles underneath Dick’s eyes and the way his voice could be almost frighteningly cheery.

There was much to investigate, and Jason had done his best to get to the bottom of Dick’s issues before he was thrown out onto the street – or worse – placed back in the system. It was only a matter of time. Dick was barely eighteen, and from everything Jason could see, the older teen was struggling to make ends meet.

He couldn’t care for Jason as well. It was only logical that Jason would have to go again, and… this time Jason wasn’t even mad. He understood the need to put oneself first. Especially when the money was sparse.

The only thing that still infuriated him was the fact that Dick denied ever being hurt by Bruce.

The older boy talked about their fights, their battle of wills, but he never said outright that something horrible must have happened between them. Maybe Jason mostly hated it because… _ he started to believe it. _

Wayne had only called once, and Dick had calmly talked to him before passing the phone to Jason. It had been a weird conversation, since Wayne simply asked if Jason had enough food, if he was sleeping well, if he was feeling sick… and when Jason had given the correct answers to all of these questions, Wayne had simply told him to call him once he knew what he wanted to do next. Wayne had even promised to let him have some space!

Jason wanted to trust Wayne. The man had been nice while Jason had stayed at his home, and the food had been great. The library had been even greater! He just… he had to make sure that he would be safe. And that was kind of hard – especially when the bruises covering Dick’s body never seemed to stop.

There had to be a solution… Jason just had to find it.

It was one of these days, Dick was out of the house “working”, when Jason… decided to snoop a little. He was beginning to feel caged in, and it was the only logical next step.

He had done everything else: He never unpacked his bag, he continued to snatch extra food whenever he could, he used Dick’s unattended laptop to figure out the best ways to vanish into Blüdhaven. Jason would be ready when his vacation from living on the street inevitably came to an end. He would be ready when Dick told him with sad eyes and a frown on his face that it was time for Jason to return to the faulty foster system of Gotham City.

Yeah, there was no way in hell.

And that day could be any day now.

Two weeks were really stretching the amount of hospitality anyone could expect, and Jason knew… sooner rather than later something had to change.

It wasn’t his fault that he decided to act first.

It wasn’t his fault that Dick was kind of shit when it came to keeping his stuff out of the way.

He’d been given the bedroom when Dick invited Jason to stay in his apartment, and it was kind of the cleanest room in Dick’s home. And yet Jason decided to start there. 

Maybe it was because he’d seen Dick frantically clean the room when he arrived with Jason in tow a few weeks earlier… something regarding his frantic movements had screamed secret and Jason was ready to figure out just what that had been.

Maybe he would only find Dick’s hidden box of sex toys or whatever eighteen-year-old boys had hidden underneath their bed, but Jason had to make sure.

He had come to… like Dick. It didn’t sit right with him, that the young man got hurt like this on the regular. He liked the possibility that Bruce was the potential perpetrator even less. Maybe Dick had a diary that proved Jason right, or maybe there were other clues that would help Jason out…

That first night the two of them had been strangers, but Jason would like to think that they had grown closer since then. In another timeline, in a world that was a lot fairer, the two of them could have been brothers… in this timeline that would only be possible if Dick managed to prove Bruce Wayne’s innocence.

And Jason was not making it easy for him. And why should he? If there was one thing he’d learned, then it was the fact that it was the adult who had to prove that they wouldn’t hurt a kid, and not the kid that had to prove that they were getting hurt.

It was simple math.  _ Really _ .

Jason crawled under the bed, and the most interesting thing he found was a pair of old socks and a magazine cover with that popular alien model printed on top of it. So, that had been a bust. But luckily Jason wasn’t done just yet. Not by a long shot.

He searched through the closet and the cupboard and he even checked the ceiling, but… nothing. _ Nada _ . All he found was a bunch of colorful shirts and an alarming lack of organization. It wasn’t dirty… it was just  _ a mess _ . On some level that calmed Jason down. Being messy in the controlled way Dick was, showcasted that someone felt comfortable… but there was something else nagging at the back of Jason’s mind.

He noticed it when he finally turned around to leave the bedroom behind, ready to search through the living room and the bathroom. One of the doors to the closet hadn’t properly closed, and when Jason stepped closer to make sure Dick wouldn’t notice his intrusion… he saw the faint line at the back of the closet door.

It almost looked as if… Jason’s hand trailed over the line, and, yes, he was right. There was a false door hidden behind the closet, and it was far too easy to open it. He pressed down on the wood only once, and suddenly a secret compartment opened.

He must… He must be dreaming.

The air vanished from the room, and Jason could feel himself getting lightheaded. Because he definitely recognized the fabric hidden in the compartment.

Hell, no self-proclaimed Gothamite would ever NOT recognize the fabric staring back at him.

It was the blue-gold only one hero wore: Nightwing. With the collar and the gold accents.

Why…? Why was Nightwing’s costume staring back at him? Why---?

That would explain the bruises. It would explain the pain and the sadness in Dick’s eyes… but… Dick Grayson? Being Nightwing? The ever-smiling boy who had taken Jason in and helped him? The young man that had listened to him when Bruce…

Oh, fuck… Did Wayne know of this?

Was he involved?

Thousands of questions whirred through Jason’s head. A headache grew behind his temples, and… what was he supposed to do next?

Did this explain everything? Or did it only make things worse?

Jason was ready to push the fabric back into the closet and be done with it, run away to never think about any of this ever again, when the door behind him opened:

“Where are you, Jay? I brought us Chinese take-out! Ah, there you…  _ oh _ ”

Jason heard the moment Dick saw the costume, and he felt the moment the air around him shifted. He was fucked.

“I can… are you-? Are you…?”

“ _ Nightwing _ ? Yeah, I am… sorry for not telling you.”

There… Jason wasn’t angry. He was mostly confused. About this situation. About Dick. About what the hell Wayne had to do with this… about what the future held for him:

“I… and Mr. Wayne?”

“Bruce… Bruce is Batman.”

“ _ Shit _ .”

Senseless laughter escaped Dick, and for a moment Jason felt like crying. This was too much. So much. He couldn’t--- he chose to laugh instead of crying as well. Nobody cared if it was a bit hysterical, nobody cared if Jason felt like losing his mind.

This might just be the craziest thing Jason had ever experienced, and he tried to steal the hubcaps of the Batmobile. From Batman… No, from Bruce Fucking Wayne.

It was Dick who managed to gather his sanity first, his voice still quivering when he finally spoke:

“I can… is it okay if I call him? Bruce, I mean… I have the feeling that he can explain this situation a lot better than I can… especially now, with the cat out of the bag.”

Jason toyed with the possibility of saying no, but in the end… with everything he knew laid out before him… he felt safe enough to say:

“Yes. Call Batman.”


End file.
